Originally posted on October 30th, 2016 in the MLPxJojo thread

“So what you are telling me is that you don’t sell lemonade?”
>You are Ziggy Stardust, the friendly neighbor guy, and it seems you’ve come to another bizarre encounter.
>You were walking around Canterlot when you came upon a new shop.
>”Lemonade” was written at the entrance.
>So it isn’t your fault for misinterpreting what the store was about.
>”Would you like some honey?” asks the vendor.
>This guy looks sketchy.
>But you guess that could be said for most people in Canterlot.
>His skin is a pale shade of pink with his mouth covered by a muffler.
>He wears a trilby but you can see some bangs of hair from under it.
>And to top it all off he is wearing a big trench coat.
>He kind of reminds you of a character from a fighting game… you don’t remember the name though.
>”It’s only $10 per jar.”
>Oh, right. 
>You don’t like honey.
“Sorry, but…” 
>You look at the jar.
>It looks handcrafted and it has a label that says “Lemonade” with the drawing of a tiny bee with a crown.
>It is super adorable.
“…I’ll take one.”
>You pay and begin to head outside.
>The clerk is arranging some jars on the counter.
“Say, wasn’t this place a flower shop not long ago?” you ask while standing on the exit.
>The clerk stops what he is doing.
“I think there were three girls who used to run it.”
>You begin to hear a faint buzz.
“Do you know what happened to them?”
>The buzzing gets a little louder.
>”No,” he responds looking away from you.
“Oh, maybe I was wrong.”
>The buzzing stops.
“Have a nice day!”
>You leave the shop.

>Well, that was uneventful.
>You walk by the sidewalk, looking at the jar on your hands.
>You begin to regret your buying impulse.
>You weren’t a fan of honey.
>You love sweet things, but honey is just too much.
>Well, you could just store it for a while until the next time you have a cold.
>Some tea with a spoonful of honey does wonders when you are sick.
>And you know for a fact that it won’t spoil.
>You once read that honey was found inside a pyramid after thousands of years, and somehow it was still edible.
>But enough about honey trivia.
>You should be paying attention to where you are walking!
>You look up from the jar.
>The sidewalk is getting more crowded.
>It is the early morning, so most of these people must be students going to class.
>It is kinda funny how there are so many teenagers in town.
>As far as you know there are two big high schools, one in the city and the other near the suburbs. 
>Both far from where you live.
>So you don’t know much about them.
>You’ve heard stuff like one of them having a music festival with sea creatures and something like a motocross competition between both schools interrupted by a tentacle monster, or some kid shooting laser shaped fists.
>Well, you don’t know much about that last one, but the other two sound farfetched to say the least. 
>Man, it’s been almost a year since you moved here, but you hear crazy things like that all the time.
>Like those saying there are zombies at the graveyard behind the church, or that the big manor outside of town is also a military base. 
>Despite the rumors, Canterlot is the most colorful and friendliest place you’ve ever been to. 

>As much as you enjoy these morning walks, it should be time to get back home.
>Mrs. Catswell, your cat, should be getting hungry and you don’t want her to be antsy while you prepare breakfast.
>You could also listen to that podcast you downloaded the other week.
>The “Two Best Sisters Play Podcast”.
>It is a mystery who those “Lulu” and “Tia” really are, but they are hilarious.
>Their antics and familiarity makes you think they must really be sisters who get along in spite of everything they say.
>They do swear a lot though. 
>The traffic light switches colors and you move towards the crosswalk.
>You hear engines rumbling.
>Not even a step into the crosswalk and you can see two cars racing heading your way.
>You don’t know much about cars, but they look like a Fiat and a Nissan.
>Man they are fast!
>You, and most of the other passersby, remain in your spots knowing the danger of crossing at this moment.
>But not everyone is that lucky.
>A middle-aged woman had already walked into the street.
>She realizes late of the oncoming danger and hurries to get back to the sidewalk, but her heel breaks and she falls to the street.

>This is bad. This is bad. This is bad. This is bad. This is bad. This is bad. This is bad!
>You begin to sweat.
>She is kneeling very low.
>The drivers won’t be able to see her.
>She is gonna get run over!
>Unless…
>You call out [Starman] and make him shoot some stars at her.
>They hit her spot on and impulse her body a few centimeters back.
>But that is enough.
>The cars zoom past her without losing any speed.
>She stands between the passing cars, shocked but unscathed.
>Good.
>You release your breath.
>You continue walking home.
>That was too intense for a single morning walk.
>Any energy you had is drained.
>It was really lucky you were there.
>Ever since that whole shebang in the Amazon you noticed that [Starman] could make physical stars unlike the one you shoot from your hands.
>It kind of makes sense since your stand is some form of materialized probability to be able to make them with mass.
>But that doesn’t matter.
>You guess you will get home, have breakfast and take a little nap. 
>One of the luxuries you earned after that trip is not having to worry about money for a while.
>Who knows, maybe Sonic will come by and make you take part in one of his whacky plots.
>”Excuse me, sir?”
>You look back.
>It’s the same woman who fell on the street.
>She is panting.
>”You dropped this.”
>In her hands is the jar of honey.
>Did she run after you just to return the jar?
>She is barefooted, her heels must have broken.
>And her sundress is all dirty.
>She is also carrying a bag of groceries on one hand.
“Thanks, I didn’t notice.”
>You get closer to her.
>Just as you are about to grab the jar she grabs your hand.
>”I… this may be sudden, but I have to know.”
> She is trembling.
>”Are you a stand user?”

“Yes.”
>…
>That came out fast.
>You should have thought a little more before answering.
>It isn’t something normal people ask out of the blue. 
>You don’t know what you may be getting into.
>Let’s see how she reacts.
>”Bwaaaaaaa.”
>She is bawling her eyes out.
>Snot is running from her nose.
>This got awkward really fast.
>You try to get away, but her grip on your hand tightens.
>You should have known.
>Most women you meet are deceptively strong. 
>…Or maybe you are a weakling.
>No. That can’t be. 
>You go to the gym quite often.
>You are no Cadillac of a man like the other people there, but you are ok… right?
>Stop that train of thought and focus!
>Crying woman now.
>You look around.
>You’ve gathered unwanted attention.
>Everyone is leering towards you.
>Oh man, you must definitely look like the bad guy here.
“Uhhh, let’s continue this somewhere more private.”
>This time you grab her hand and hastily retreat from the people’s judging eyes.

“Is tea ok?”
>She nods weakly from the table at your dining room. 
>You are at “Casa de Stardust”.
>Not that you or anybody calls it that way.
>The woman calmed down a notch, although you can still hear the occasional sob.
>Your cat is spying from the door, scrutinizing the unknown guest.
>It looks back to you, demanding an answer.
>You smile and give her a thumb up.
>Your cat looks at you for a moment… and then leaves feigning indifference. 
>Your baby is so smart.
>You should give her some sardines tonight as an apology.
>You bring your guest the cup of tea and sit next to her.
>She helps herself to some of the honey.
>She’s been holding the jar the whole time as if her life depended on it. 
>After a few sips she calms down.
>”I-I don’t really know how to start this,” she says without looking at your eyes, her eyes lost in her reflection on the tea.
“Then let me start.”
>She lifts her gaze towards you. 
“My name is Ziggy Stardust and I’m a freelance translator.” 
>She smirks a little when you mention your name, but you will let that pass… for now.
“What about you?”
>Her body stiffens. 
>“My name is Milquetoast. I own a camera shop downtown.”
>And she has the nerve to laugh at your name!?
>You’ve heard about names reflecting one's personality, but this is too on the nose!
> “Is it true then? You are a stand user?”
>You call out [Starman].
“Does this answer your question?”
>She looks at you inquisitively.
>… could it be?
>[Starman] grabs the jar of honey and waves it a little in front of her.
>Milquetoast screams and falls back from the chair, throwing the cup of tea across the dining room. 
>The cup shatters against a wall. 
“What a waste.”
>”Oh my god, they are real! Stands are real!”
“So you can’t see it but still knew about stands?”
>She nods her head.

>”My grandfather used to tell me stories about them when I was a little girl. For the longest time I thought they were just silly tales, but deep down I always believed they were real.”
>You have [Starman] leave the honey on the table and then you call him back.
“I see.”
>Milquetoast is still trembling.
>Her story does make some sense.
>If it weren’t for the fact that you have a stand, then you probably wouldn’t think they were real either.
>They would be like one of those spooky tales in the paranormal threads.
>You shiver a little.
>They still give you nightmares.
>You grab a broom and begin to sweep the cup shards.
“That still doesn’t explain how you figured out I was a stand user.”
>”On the street you saved me from those cars.”
“It could have been anyone.”
>”No,” she gets up from the floor and dusts off her dress “in every tale my grandpa told me, stand users would strike a pose and use their powers to fight against evil.”
>That grandpa must have either seen too many stand battles or seen too many anime. 
>”I saw it clearly, you dropped the jar of honey, stroked a pose and then I was pushed right between those cars. “
>Did you really pose?
>For how long have you been doing that?
>”You were the only one posing and saved me. That’s how I knew you were one of the good ones.”
“One of the good ones?”
>”A good stand user! One of your people that stands up against evil and helps those in need!”
“…What do you mean by your people?”
>She freezes at her faux pass.

“I’m not sure of what you’ve been told, but stand user or not I’m just your average joe.”
>And just like that she begins to tremble again.
>Well, let’s end this charade. 
>You leave the broom aside and walk right in front of her.
“You didn’t follow me just to thank me. What do you need a stand user for?”
>She stops shaking, and as if the fear had left her eyes you can sense something else.
>Something she hadn’t shown to you the whole day.
>Determination.
>”Mr. Stardust, my son is in the hospital right now. The doctors suspect he has some form of leukemia, but every test made on him was negative. After several weeks of observation and after exhausting every option, I’ve come to fear the worst. I believe he is under the influence of a stand attack.”
>Her eyes begin to tear, but her voice doesn’t waver. 
>”I know we’ve met just by chance, but I implore you if there is a possibility please save my son.  I don’t know for how long he will be like this, but I just can’t take it anymore.”
“I’ve heard enough.”
>You turn around and go down the hallway.
>Milquetoast follows you.
>”Please! I’ll pay you!”
>You open the door to your bedroom.
>”I’ll clean your house; I’ll lick your shoes!”
>Her voice begins to crack.
>”I’ll do anything you want but please save my…”
“Put these on.”
>You hand her a pair of slippers.
>She looks at them completely befuddled.
“I don’t think my shoes will fit you so these will have to do.”
>Now she’s just looking at you. 
“Come on; take me to your son. I’ll see what I can do.”
>Milquetoast jumps at you and hugs you with all her strength while thanking you repeatedly.
>And of course, drenching your shirt with tears.
>You’ll need to change it before leaving.

>The Canterlot Hospital.
>You’ve never been here before.
>Not that you didn’t get sick this whole time, but you already have a personal doctor.
>She is quite efficient, and even speaks in rhymes!
>But enough about you.
>Milquetoast guides you through some intricate corridors (are hospitals always this big?) until you both reach room 305.
>Milquetoast goes in first.
>You wait by the entrance and hear her talk.
>”Sweetie, there is someone who wants to see you.  Do you think you could speak with him for a little while?”
>You don’t hear the answer, but Milquetoast opens the door for you and you go inside.
>The room is bright green, well lit by the fluorescent lights.
>The room is big, but there isn’t much to see.
>There are no windows, but someone placed a vase with a flower, a cactus and a framed picture in an attempt to make the place a bit more homely. 
>There are some machines going “beep” every so often.
>You don’t know what they are for, but they are all connected to a child lying on a bed in the middle of the room. 
>He is the living image of a dying kid.
>His brown hair is a mess and it seems to be losing color, but its bangs partly cover his sunken eyes.
>His teeth are crooked and he is breathing with difficulty.
>But the worst is the state of his body.
>He looks morbidly malnourished. 
>He is barely skin and bones.
>You do your best attempt to not think “He’s not gonna make it” and sit in a chair next to his bed.
“Hey little guy. How are you?”
>The kid looks at you as if to tell you that question was quite obvious.
>This must be a new record of making yourself look like a fool.
>Don’t worry. You are great with children.
>You have little to no experience dealing with them, but you were a kid once, so that’s got to count for something.
“My name is Ziggy,” 
>The kid laughs a little.
>… he is dying so you will pretend that didn’t just happen.
“What’s your name?”
>>”Featherweight” he coughs weakly.

“Your mom here told me you haven’t been feeling so well. Do you know why that is?”
>Featherweight looks at his mother nervously.
>She gives him an approving nod.
>>”Mom said it was because of a stand.”
“So you know what a stand is then.”
>>”They are ghosts that bad people use to hurt bad children.”
>Now you look at Milquetoast in a disapproving way. 
>Great way to scare you kid. 
>Top parenting right here.
>You’ better rectify this lie.
“Now now, not every stand user is a bad person.”
>”They aren’t?”
“Of course not.”
>”B-but then why am I here?”
“That’s what I came to find out. You see, I am a stand user.”
>Featherweight’s reaction looks more like you would expect for the second time you reveal you are a stand user in a day.
>You can see the fear in his eyes.
>Also the machines start to beep faster than before.
>His mom rushes to his side.
>”It is ok honey. He is one of the good ones!”
>You know that Milquetoast is only trying to calm his son, but the way she says “one of the good ones” bothers you. 
> Is stand racism a thing?
>You better stop thinking about that.
“I’m not here to hurt you little man. Your mom brought me to help you.”
>He still doubts you.
>You can tell from how firmly he is holding his mother’s hand.
>Maybe there is a way to earn his trust little by little.
“How about… you ask me anything you want? I promise I’ll answer as best as I can.”
>Featherweight ponders a little.
>He whispers something to her mom and she gives him a thumbs up. 
>>”How did you get a stand?” 
”You know… I must have been around your age when I awoke my powers.”

-Flashback-

>I was 10 years old.
>Not many things worried me at the time.
>School, reading the Power Ponies, playing video games…
>But all of that changed in a single night.
>My parents had gone to see a relative in the hospital.
>It wasn’t supposed to take long, but an unexpected typhoon changed their plans.
>So I was left home alone, waiting for them to return.
>For the most part it was nice being on my own.
>I stayed up till late in the night watching horror movies and eating candy.
>Until the lights went out.
>I didn’t notice when the storm had intensified, but by that time it almost seemed as if the world was going to end.
>I ran to my bedroom and hid under my covers.
>I was really scared. 
>I remained there for what may have been hours.
>Just as I was beginning to fall asleep, the wind blew open one of my windows.
>I could hear how the strong gust was making a mess of everything in the room.
>I had to close that window, but I was too terrified to get out of bed.
>I remember thinking “Please, oh please, someone save me.”
>And then the wind stopped.
>I peeked out of the covers, but it was too dark to see anything.
>I couldn’t feel the wind anymore, so I knew the window was closed.
“But how?”
>As if to answer my question a flash of lightning illuminated the room.
>It lasted only a second, but I can still remember every detail of what I saw at that moment.
>There was someone else in the room.
>A stranger was holding the window close with his hands.
>And he had been staring at me the whole time.
>When the light faded away and a thunder boomed not long after it, I screamed with all the fear a child could muster and passed out.

>The next morning I told my parents about it.
>They were worried at first, thinking that some burglar had broken in during the storm.
>It didn’t take long for the stranger to appear again.
>That time I tried to show him to my parents, but they couldn’t see him.
>They said what I was seeing was just an imaginary friend and that it would go away as time passed.
>They weren’t completely wrong.
>This imaginary friend wasn’t present all the time.
>It only came out to help me when I was scared.
>Always looking after me, standing by my side.
>As time went on, he began to appear more vividly.
>His features became clearer.
>His slim body, his square shoulders, his tight suit, his bright boots, his flaming red hair, his androgynous figure, his black skin with shiny little stars sprinkled all over, the red lightning over his right eye, and even his goofy glasses. 
>I came to the conclusion that he was going to stay for a long time.
>He was my closest friend and thus he needed a name.
>He didn’t have a mouth, so he couldn’t tell me himself.
>I don’t know if it was a spur of the moment or if I knew it all along, but I came with a suitable name almost instantly.
“[Starman]”.

-End of Flashback-

>Both mother and son listened intently at your story.
>And both of them seem to have different opinions about it.
>>”The stand is your friend?”
“That’s right little boy. We’ve been inseparable since that day.”
>”This is so different from the stories my grandfather told me,” she seems the most skeptical “didn’t bad stand users get attracted to you and got you into trouble?”
“It’s the second time I’ve heard that thing about “stand users attract other stand users”. I’m not sure it is entirely accurate,” or at least it wasn’t until you moved to Canterlot “but I did get into trouble finding out what my stand did.”
>”You didn’t know right from the start what it did?”
“I had no idea!”

-Flashback 2-

>It probably was about a month since I named my stand.
>I was about to have lunch at school when Billy, the toughest and meanest fifth grader, threw his football at the back of my head.
>The ball hit me so hard that I fell from my seat, and brought my lunch down with me.
>So I was left sprawled on the floor, with my pants covered in soup, an easy target for a bully.
>”Hey guys, look! Ziggy is all wet!”
>Everyone there started to laugh.
>Of course I answered in the most mature way I could at the time.
“Shut up!”
>And then I ran crying to the bathroom.
>What a hero, right?
>Anyway, I spent a good amount of time trying to wash my pants but I only managed to make things worse.
>The stains only got bigger.
>I lost hope.
>I’d have to spend the whole school day on my boxers.
>But then something fell from my hand right into my pants.
>I examined it closely.
>It was yellow and had five points, kind of like…
“A star?”
>I tried to wash it off from my pants, and surprisingly it came off… along with the soup stains!
>It was a miracle!

>As I left my pants hanging from a door to dry, I began to shake my hands in an effort to make another star appear.
>Another one came out.
>I looked at it as closely as I could.
>It was different.
“Why is this one black?”
>It didn’t feel different from the other one, and in spite of the color it looked almost identical.
>Then I did what most kids do when they find something they don’t understand.
>I popped it into my mouth and ate it.
>I let it linger on my tongue for a while before swallowing.
> It was sweet!
>No, it was more than that.
>It was the sweetest thing I ever ate!
>Better than any candy!
>And I had to have more!
>I waved my hands until a lot more of the black stars came out. 
>And then I gobbled them all. 
>That went on for a while.
>By the time my pants were dry I was feeling sick.
>But I still needed more.
>This time a yellow star came again.
“…Sure, why not?”
>I ate it with no hesitation.
>I regretted it right away.
>It was bitter!
>It was the worst!
>I began to spit, but the flavor wouldn’t leave my mouth!
>Everything was spinning fast.
>At that moment Billy came into the bathroom.
>”Hey loser, the teacher wants you back in class right now!”
>And then I threw up all over him.
>And this was not your regular barf.
>It was a torrent of puke!
>It came out so hard that Billy was blasted into the wall.
>By the time I finished, which may have been like five whole minutes of pure vomit action, he was covered from head to toes in green puke with chunks of black stars.
>Billy started crying.
>And after bumping blindly with the bathroom walls he went running to the courtyard, where all the school laughed at him and nicknamed him “Billy Vomit”.

-End of Flashback 2-

“I like to think that the moral of that story is that too many sweet things will harm you, so sometimes you have to eat something bitter like celery or a remedy to stay healthy.”
>Both Featherweight and his mom look at you with varying levels of disgust.
>Weird. 
>You are pretty proud of that story. 
>>”I don’t get it. I thought stands were ghosts, not candy that comes out of your hands.”
>”Or a super detergent.”
“Huh? Oh, I guess I didn’t explain it that well. Thanks to my stand, I gained the ability to create stars from my hands. They affect probability in different ways. Yellow ones do it in a favorable way, while the black ones do it in a disfavorable way.”
>It really took you a long time to figure that out.
>>”T-then when you ate the yellow star.”
“I threw up the black ones because they would have probably harmed me.”
>Milquetoast looks disillusioned. 
>”Don’t you know any other stand user that could help? Someone with a stronger stand?”
“Stronger stand? What do you mean?”
>>”Mom said that strong stands could punch bad guys really fast.”
“Oh, well that’s a common misconception I guess,” you think for a moment how to explain it to them “Say, Featherweight do you like RPG video games?”
>He nods.
“Ok, that makes it a little easier to explain,” you take a notepad from your pocket and a pencil and begin to draw a little graph. “You see, all stands are different but most of them can be categorized in six stats: Destructive power, Speed, Range of influence, Durability, Precision and finally Development potential. These parameters are ranked from “E” to “A” with “A” being the strongest”.
>”So there are stands that are stronger than others.”
“Not really. Those parameters are mostly a guide to know what it can or can’t do. I’ve met my fair share of stand users. So I know for a fact that there isn’t really a stand that is better or stronger than others. By the end of the day what really matters is how its user, well, uses them.”
>”But, can you help my son with your power?”
“…Probably?”
>Milquetoast doesn’t look pleased with your answer.
>”Do you know someone who can help?”
“Well…”
>At that moment the door to the room opens.
>It is a chubby nurse.
>>>”Miss Milquetoast, am I interrupting? There is a policeman that wants to talk to you.”
>”Can it wait a moment?” she responds, the frustration evident in her voice.
>>>”I’m afraid not.”
>”Ok, Featherweight I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
>She gets up and leaves with the nurse.
>You are left alone with Featherweight.
 “…Just so you know, my stand can’t punch fast, but it packs quite a punch.”

>This is awkward. 
>Milquetoast has been gone for a few minutes.
>You don’t really know how to approach him.
>He seems so fragile.
>You look at the family photo.
>In it there’s Milquetoast, an even littler but healthier looking Featherweight and a Short but super buff man.
“Hey little guy,” Featherweight looks at you surprised; maybe he didn’t expect you would talk to him until his mom came back “Who is the man in the photo?”
>Featherweight’s look gets more somber.
>>”That’s my dad, Welterweight.”
“He looks really strong.”
>>”Yes. He was a boxer.”
>…Was?
>Oh no. Thread carefully Ziggy.
“What happened to him?”
>>”He died a year ago from a stroke. The doctors said that all the punches he received on the head had finally caught up to him. Since then it’s just been mom and me.”
>Poor kid.
>… could it be?
>No, it’s too early to jump to conclusions. 
“Sorry to hear that. If it makes you feel any better, I know what it feels to lose a parent. No matter the age, it is always hard.”
>>”What happened to yours?”
“Well, my mom worked too much and then all the stress caught up to her,” not that different from his dad if you word it that way “and my dad choked on a sandwich. So at least I know he died doing what he liked.”
>Boy this is a downer.
“It is hard, but life continues. I made friends and I live with a cat, and of course I have [Starman] with me, so I never feel alone.”
>Featherweight seems to be thinking about what you said.
>Still it would be better to change the subject.
“Soooo, do you have a pet, or a favorite animal?”  
>>”My favorite animal is the Scarlet Macaw, “he says with a little smile “but I heard they became extinct after a fire that burned down the Amazon Jungle.”
“…I like cats.”
>That should be enough about that. 

>>”Sir?”
“Don’t be shy and don’t let the Hawaiian shirt fool you, I’m pretty chill. Call me Ziggy.”
>>”Mr. Ziggy, Do you know other stand users?”
“Yes. I didn’t when I was a kid, but as I grew up I met many.”
>>”Where they… bad people?”
“I can’t say for sure. Some of them were misguided or maybe I just didn’t understand them. But most of the ones I met were interesting fellows. I even became friends with a few.”
>>”Where you ever on a stand fight?”
>He is asking more questions. 
>Maybe he trusts you a little more.
“A few times, but they were isolated incidents. This one time my friend Sonic and I were hanging out, when this guy Rocket Man came and…”
>>”You know Rocket Man? The [ROCKET MAN]!?”
“Yeah. You know him?”
>>”Of course! Every kid in my school knows him. He is a superhero!”
“Really? I just thought he was a tokusatsu enthusiast.” 
>>”He always comes flying and saves people!” looks like he is a fan of this guy, “Wait, does that mean that he is a stand user?”
“That’s right. And a very strong one.  Both me and my friend, who is also a stand user, could barely keep up with him.”
>>” Did you beat him?”
“Of course not. I could never defeat a Kamen Rider.”
>>”Then what did you do?”
“I hit him with a yellow star and then these girls came and...”, Featherweight looks at you expectantly “you know, I’ll tell you how that story ends when you are older.”

>He looks at you bitterly.
>You don’t like being such a spoilsport, but you’d never tarnish a kid’s innocence. 
>Internet and cable television should do that.
>>”Did you see another cool stand?”
“Mmm, I once met a guy who could remove conditions with his stand.”
>>”I don’t get it.”
“Neither do I. Come to think of it, he just vanished one day. I hope he is somewhere safe.”
>He was a good guy.
>Featherweight keeps asking questions and you answer them all.
>You feel like you’ve become closer to him.

“And that’s how I got my cat.”
>>”That story wasn’t as interesting as the others.”
“Not all of them can be winners, kid.”
>>”Ziggy, you can do anything happen with your stand?”
“Yeah, kinda. Although it is quite tricky,” this gets his attention “Let’s say I use my power to increase the probability of getting a perfect score on a test, I’d still need to go to school and take the test for it to happen.”
>>”Did you ever do that? Use your powers to get a good grade?”
“Did I? I guess when I was a teenager I used my power for mostly anything.”

-Flashback 3-

>When you are young and you can do anything you want to happen it isn’t strange to get carried away.
>I used my powers for everything.
>I used it at school to get good grades, during sports to be a great athlete, with girls to go on dates, at fairs to win prizes, during D&D to get natural 20’s, and the list goes on.
>I felt I was unstoppable.
>But I never had enough.
>So when I was 17 I took a plane to Las Pegasus. 
>I went to the “Gladmane’s Palace Resort and Casino” with the intention of “breaking the bank”, that is to say, becoming very rich.
>Conveniently nobody asked for my age, but I knew if something bad were to happen it wouldn’t be something I couldn’t handle.
>So I started slow, with only one bit on a coin slot machine.
>I placed a yellow star on it and then, that one bit became a pile of golden coins.
>Then I went to play craps, and with my experience of rigging dice rolls it didn’t take long to win every time.
>High stakes poker was fun, and so was Blackjack. I didn't even have to look at the cards. Every hand was a winner. 
>I was having a blast. Life was being played in easy mode so to speak.
>Finally I went to my favorite table in a casino. 
>The roulette. 
>By this point I had gathered quite a crowd. 
>Everyone wanted to see the youngest luckiest man win, or lose it all for that matter.
>By that point I had made so much money that the owner himself came to see me.
>“Lil’ boy let me tell you, you are the hottest thing in this here Resort and Casino since we started to exhibit the corpse of Frank Sinatra.”
“Eww”. 
>”Would you be so kind to have, ah, a friendly match with me?”

“I didn’t come here to make friends; If you want to play with me then you’d better have the cash to back it up.”
>Huh, I was cockier than I remember.
>”If that is the way you, a-ha a-ha, you like it boy, then let me play against you in this here roulette.”
“You are on!”
>”Why thank you. Thank you very much.”
>I betted everything on red, so Gladmane betted the same amount on black.
>I placed a yellow star among my chips, but this time I concentrated all my power on it.
>It was the first time I did something like that.
>I didn’t know at the time, but those kinds of games are always rigged in some form.
>As far as I know, Gladmane stepped on a red colored tile on the floor, and all the red spots on the roulette became slightly higher thus being more difficult for the ball to stay on them.
>Years later he got caught for using this same trick, but at that moment it was his winning strategy.
>The ball finally landed on a spot.
>”Thirty-five black.“ said Gladmane.
>I couldn’t believe it.
>I lost.
>It shouldn’t have happened, but it did.
>”Well boy, I believe this makes me the…”
>But he didn’t finish that sentence.
>The whole floor began to tremble.
>It was an earthquake.
>It lasted only a couple of seconds, but when it ended I could hear all the people gathered cheering.
>I looked back at the roulette.
>The ball had moved during the earthquake. 
“Twenty-three red. I win.”
>Gladmane couldn’t believe it.
>After losing in front of that many people he had no choice than to pay me up front everything that I had won. 
>I left the casino a rich man.

-End of Flashback 3-

>>”You are rich?”
“Not anymore.”
>>”How much did you win?”
“Well, I don’t know how much it would be today in this ever changing economy, but when that happened almost ten years ago it was over five hundred million American dollars.”
>If Featherweight’s mouth were any more open, then there would be a hole on the ground.
>>”Then it is true, you can do anything!”
>…
“Yes. That is the scary part.”
>>”Huh?”
“I didn’t know at the moment, because I was elated by having won so much money, but the very next day I learned the truth. You see, a meteor had fallen that night. At the very second I placed that star it fell on a city, destroying it completely. The impact was so strong that it caused a little tremor two states over, right where I was playing roulette,” from the look of it Featherweight understands where you are going with this “I made that meteor fall. I destroyed that city. I made countless people lose their homes and maybe more. And only to move the ball a little bit.”
>You take a deep breath and continue.
“It turns out that when something good happens, something equally bad happens somewhere else. The total value of everything that was lost on the wreckage was around five hundred million dollars. As soon as possible, I donated anonymously all that money to the charity funds for the reconstruction of the city and to aid those who had lost everything. But still, I felt sick with myself.  I could make anything happen, but I didn’t know how it would happen. I couldn’t handle that responsibility, so for a couple of years I refrained from using my stand.” 
>The room is almost silent.
>You can only hear the occasional beep from the machines.

>>”What made you change your mind?” you look over at Featherweight “What made you use your stand again?”
“Like it usually happens to most men, I met a girl. We were in college back then. She made me realize that everyone deserves a second chance no matter how badly they messed up before. And I took that ideology to heart. “
>>”She sounds amazing.”
“She was.”
>The mood lightened a little, all thanks to Featherweight.
>>”All this time I thought stand users were bad people, but you are a nice man.”
“I’m just like any other man. Having a stand doesn’t make better or worse than anybody.”
>>”Yeah, but it sounds so cool. I’d like to have a stand of my own.”
>…
“Featherweight, you haven’t noticed, right?”
>>”Notice what?”
“You already have a stand.”
>>”What? That can’t be.”
“Tell me, can you see this?” 
>You make [Starman] appear next to you.
>Featherweight crawls back in his bed, hitting his head against the wall.
“Only stand users can see stands. This proves that you too are a stand user.”
>Featherweight’s gaze is fixated on [Starman]’s bulging crotch.
“Hey, eyes up here.”
>You call back your stand and get face to face with Featherweight.
“Ever since your dad passed away you began to feel weaker, right?
>He nods slowly.
“That trauma must have subconsciously awoken your stand. But you haven’t mastered it yet so it keeps on sapping your energy.”
>>”I-I-I- what should I do?”
“You have to take control of it. You are the stand’s master, not the other way around. Fight it with your will to live. If you don’t then most likely it will kill you.”
>>”I can’t. This is too scary,” He is getting paler, he is sweating and crying, and you can tell from the machine that his heart rate is increasing “you do it for me Ziggy, I can’t! I don’t want to die! You can make anything happen, please save me, please…”
>You hug him.
>He can no longer talk, only cry his heart out.
>He gets it all out, with you holding him tight the whole time.

>He is calmer now, but still scared.
“Listen little buddy, the only one who can save you is yourself. Not your dad, not your mom, not the doctors, not me. You.”
>He just listens.
>There is no reaction.
“I’ll leave you my phone number. If anything happens tell your mom to call me. “
>You begin to leave.
“Think about everything I told you today. I made a lot of mistakes, but I’m sure you can learn from them. Whatever you decide to do I’ll accept it, but know this. I believe in you.”
>He still doesn’t respond.
>You leave the room.
>Just as you begin walking away you see milquetoast coming down from the corridor.
>”Sorry for making you wait. The police are investigating about a nurse that attacked a patient last night.”
“That sounds awful.”
>”How is Featherweight.”
“I did everything I could; now it’s up to him.”
>She casts her look down.
>She clearly has been through a lot.
“I left my number in the room. If something bad happens, then give me a call. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
>And then you leave her alone in the corridor.
>You go back home.

>You are Featherweight.
>Its night time.
>Your mom fell asleep sitting next to you.
>She looks so tired.
>She was always a hardworking woman, but after dad died she had to work more.
>And then you had to get sick.
>Keeping you in the hospital was expensive.
>Mom had to work her hardest so that you could get medical attention.
>So her being exhausted like this was your fault.
>The same thing happened with dad.
>You wanted to go to the zoo to see the Scarlet Macaw, so you went and woke up your dad in haste for going to the zoo.
>That morning you woke him up, he yawned, went to the bathroom, and then he collapsed.
>Maybe if you had let him sleep more he would still be with you.
>Him having a stroke may as well be your fault.
>”The trauma must have unconsciously awoken your stand.”
>That’s what Ziggy said.
>He also said that you should fight it with your will to live.
>… How do you do that?
>You close your eyes.
>”He was always looking after me, standing by my side.”
>If what Ziggy said was right, it should be here with you.
>Maybe you could reason with it?
>Become friends?
“Hi? Can you hear me?”
>You feel a tug at your heart. 
>It hurts!
>Is horrible!
>Is your stand doing this?
>This is unbearable!
>You are going to die!
>You can taste copper in your mouth.
>Everything starts feeling cold.
>”You are the stand’s master, not the other way around.”
>But you aren’t strong like Ziggy.
>You can’t control it. 
>Maybe this is for the best.
>If you die, then mom won’t have to keep working so much.
>”When something good happens, something equally bad happens somewhere else.”
>Perhaps this was meant to happen.
>You killed your dad.
>You made mom’s life miserable.
>You deserve to die.
>Your left arm is stiff.
>Your consciousness is fading away.
>You think of mom, teaching you how to use a camera with a smile on her face. 
>And then she is at home all alone. 
>Crying.
>You think of your dad, taking you home after school and telling you old boxing stories.
>And then his limp lifeless body on the bathroom floor.
>You think of Ziggy.
>He said he would accept whatever choice you make, but he also said he believed in you.
>”… everyone deserves a second chance no matter how badly they messed up before.”
>You can hear his voice echoing in your head.
>You look at your mom for what may be the last time.
>The tugging in your heart gets even stronger.
>You muster as little air you have in your lungs.
>This is it. 
>This is your choice.
“I…”

“I… giv-“
>”…rweight.”
>Your mom is speaking in her sleep.
>Hearing her talk stops you from finishing your sentence.
>”Don’t leave us… I’m scared…” tears run down her face “Your son misses you so much… I’m so sorry…”
>She is talking about dad.
>All this time…
>You knew she missed him, even if she didn’t show in front of you.
>But seeing her like this right in your face.
>How many nights has she cried like this?
>How much pain did she hide just to not be a burden for others?
>Just a second ago you thought if you died it would be best for her.
>But it would devastate her.
>To die scared you.
>But just thinking of your mom with her spirit broken…
>That scares you a thousand times more.
>You won’t allow it
>For the first time in your life you can feel it.
>Deep within you.
>It burns stronger than the pain you are feeling right now.
>Not for you, but for her.
>For the first time you feel…
“I WANT TO LIVE!”

>You are Ziggy.
>You didn’t sleep much last night.
>You were worried something bad would happen and you’d miss a call.
>Perhaps you should have stayed in the hospital?
>No, that would be imposing a little too much.
>You talked with the kid and gave him advice, but by the end of the day you have no right to impose in the life of this family.
>And still… you came back to Canterlot Hospital.
>You approach the main desk and ask for directions for Featherweight's room.
>This place still feels like a labyrinth.
>You reach the room and knock on the door.
>”Come in”
>Huh?
>That voice…
>You didn’t expect to hear it right now.
>You open the door and are greeted by a smiling Featherweight.
>”Hi Ziggy!”
>He is sitting by the edge of his bed, swinging his leg above the floor.
“Hey little guy. You look… healthier.”
>”Yeah! I haven’t felt this great in a long time.” 
>You take a sit next to the bed.
>”The doctors couldn’t believe it. They said they wanted to keep me under observation for a little longer, but if everything is ok I may leave in a day or two.”
“Those are great news. How did our mother take it?”
>”She fainted from crying so much.”
>You both laugh a little.
“So, I take it you faced your stand.”
>Featherweight’ smile shrinks a little when you mention his stand.
>”Yes, last night.” He stops swinging his feet “I wanted to thank you. What you said yesterday helped me out. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably have given up sooner.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you are ok.”
>You don’t know what you would have done if things didn’t go right.
“Tell me, what made you overcome your stand?”
>His smile turns into a huge grin.
>”A girl.”
“Ha, I guess some things never change.”

“Making the first step is always the hardest part, and you know from what I told you that it never gets any easier, but that is the path you have chosen. Now that you have a stand, you must know that it comes with certain responsibilities.”
>Featherweight takes a hand to his chest.
>”I know. I’m not entirely sure of what it can do, but I’ll do my best to master it and use it only for good and just if necessary.”
“That’s the spirit. Oh, one more thing.”
>You call out [Starman] and make him create a solid yellow star the size of a closed fist.
>You hand it to Featherweight and make your stand disappear.
“I want you to have this.”
>”But this…”
“You know what it can do, so I trust you will use it only if you see fit. Besides, I like to think that good people deserve to have nice things.”
>He remains looking at the star in his hands.
“I know it is not my place to say this to you but,” you give him a pat in the shoulder “you did something really brave last night. I’m proud of you.”
>”Thanks Ziggy. It means a lot.”
>The door to the room opens.
>>”Sorry sweetie, the doctors wanted to check I didn’t have anything wrong and then… Oh, mister Stardust, I didn’t know you were here.”
“I just wanted to check on Featherweight. I was just about to leave.”
>>”W-wait!” she fixes her sundress a little and gets closer to you. “Featherweight said that you helped him get better.”
“I did nothing, it was mostly him.”
>>”B-but still, I’d like to repay you somehow.”
>She is blushing.
>Mmm. 
>Should you?
>Sure, why not?
“You know, there is something you could do.”
>Milquetoast blushes furiously.
“I’ve always wanted a cactus.”
>The blush is gone.
>>”Oh… sure. That’s ok I guess.”
>”I’ll get it to him.”
>Featherweight grabs the cactus by the base of the pot, but while handling you he pricks a finger with a spine.
“Easy there champ. We don’t want you to be hospitalized again.”
>Both mother and son look at you with their mouths slightly open.
“Bye guys, take care!”
>You leave.

>>”Did he just call you…”
>The blush reappears slightly in Milquetoast’s face.
>”Yeah,” Featherweight responds smiling. “That’s how dad used to call me.”

>You are back at your home.
>You take your new cactus and with a marker write “JUMBO” in its pot. 
>You chuckle to yourself.
>You can be hilarious from time to time.
>You look over to a shelf hanging over your study.
>On it are the signed copy Miss Do gave you, the jar of honey from the other day (why did you put it there?), and several other knickknacks.
>You place the cactus next to them.
>This bizarre collection doesn’t look so bad.   
>You leave the room without noticing that the side of the cactus that was facing the wall had grown a little pair of googly eyes.

BONUS TRACK

>”Hi boss, it’s Snowdrop again.”
>”So, we came to the Air Supplena Island and met some resistance from the locals.”
>”They were no problem, but…”
>”They didn’t have the stone.”
>”That’s right, we found nothing so we were wondering what to… oh wait, Gaffer found something.”
>”Hold on. Boss, I'm giving Gaffer the phone.”
>>”Hello sir. We found out who’s got the stone.”
>>”It’s the Judas Laboratory.”

TO BE CONTINUED…